Cirque du Sanitarium
by ReignitedN7
Summary: When Delia finally looses it, Lydia is forced to run away...and join the circus. She becomes their resident psychic...but when she receives word that a corpse is forcing a human into marriage...Lydia forced to make the ultimate choice...life or death. Rating to go up. Trigger warnings will also be in place.
1. Chapter 1

**_ATTENTION KMART SHOPPERS._**

So I'm pretty excited about this fic! I've got **FairDrea** (author of _Haunting Temptations_ ) as my Beta! Amazing right?!

I've been mulling over this story for quite some time and I'm hoping it makes a hit!

There will be MANY Burton references, cameos, and actual character appearances-so I do hope you enjoy this trip into Tim Burton Hell lol

 _ **I do not own any characters or references to Betelgeuse(Beetlejuice). I'm just writhing for my own enjoyment and do not profit from it.**_

* * *

In every fairy tale that Lydia has ever read, there was always a happy ending for the hero and princesses. They're ride of into the sunset without a single care in the world. Some even popped out a few kids.

So it's clearly understandable that Lydia should expect the same ending for her story…right?

They defeated the bad guy... _ghost_ …. and they made peace with the resident ghost couple. So there wasn't anything to worry about right? It should have been smiles; sunshine and Harry Belafonte dance a longs.

But fate seems to like giving Lydia the metaphorical middle finger.

She only had minutes but they seemed more like fractional seconds. Her backpack didn't seem nearly as big as she though it was as she stuffed various articles of clothing to the bottom of the bag. Lydia then ran into the bathroom and grabbed her toothbrush, toothpaste, and her hairbrush. The items flew across the room and into her backpack. Next were her notebook, a few pens, and camera. She hoped the batteries would last a bit longer.

A quick change of clothes and she then zipped up her backpack and hoisted it onto her back. She pulled out her wallet from her jean pocket and opened it.

Drivers license. Dad's credit card. Fifty dollars in change. It'll have to do.

Lydia stared down at her shaking hands. She knew her face was wet from the ever-flowing tears, but she'd waste precious seconds whipping them away.

Now she needed a means of escape.

Lydia went to her balcony door and threw it open. The French doors hit the side paneling of the house with a loud bang. She cringed, as she was sure the people downstairs heard. Her time was now cut in half.

She searched everywhere. She couldn't jump, lest she land wrong and break an ankle; she'd be doomed then. There was a lattice on the side panel near her balcony, but she would have to jump in order to grab it.

 _Lydia?_

Too late. Her hands gripped the guardrail and she was about to swing her legs over when a sudden tug at her heart stopped her. She was forgetting something.

A quick glance over her shoulder told her, her intuition was right. As if having a life force of its own, her mother's jewelry box sat along on her dresser, begging her to take it with her.

She only had seconds.

Lydia ran across the room and snatched up the small box before the door to her room burst open. She let out a cry as one of the men in white made a grab for her. Her heel turned on the carpet and she nearly fell face first but she recovered and dashed for the balcony.

Delia screamed her name over and over again but Lydia could only think of gaining enough memento to jump the rail…

The man's enormous hand landed on her shoulder and jerked her back, digging his fingers in to gain a grip. Lydia turned her mouth on his hairy skin and sank her teeth in. She nearly laughed as he let go with an almost child like scream. His blood tasted like dirty copper in her mouth.

 _Lydia!_

The Goth girl grabbed the railing and swung her legs over the side. It would have been perfect if she didn't have her mother's jewelry box in her hand, so instead of getting a firm hold on the lattice, her hands slipped, and she rode the lattice side like a fireman's pole. Her feet landed on the pavement of the driveway and her nerves sent shocks of electricity up her legs from the improper landing. Lydia sucked in air through her teeth and tried to grit through the pain, but in reality she didn't have the luxury to deal with pain right now. The asylum techs where already halfway down the stairs.

Willing her feet to move, Lydia stumbled towards her dad's Buick. Thank God he parked on the opposite side of the driveway; the other car was blocked by a white van. The Buick was also facing towards the road. A quick escape.

She wrenched the door to the gray Buwick open and threw her backpack and jewelry box in the passenger's side before sliding in the driver's seat. She immediately hit the car locks.

Delia appeared at the cars front and was banging furiously on the hood. Whatever she was screaming at Lydia about fell on deaf ears. She could see a white coat at the corner of her eye as one of the men worked at the door's handle.

Shaking hands searched every inch of the tan leather interior before finding the car keys already in the ignition. Lydia paused. Her fingers touched the keys with a reverence before she realized that her dad never left the keys in the car, let alone in the ignition.

Delia had said that if she ever went crazy, she was taking them down with her too. Charles must have already seen it happening.

 _Thanks dad._

Snapping out of it, Lydia turned the keys and started the engine. The roar of the engine was Delia's only warning to get out of the way. Her stepmother took the hint and backed off from the car, screaming at the top of her lungs something about the police.

Lydia hit the clutch, switched the gears, and floored the gas.

She then gave Fate a middle finger right back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for your patients! I'm a mom of three kids under 6 and life can get a bit hectic.**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: I'd like to warn that his chapter does contain implied rape-but nothing graphic. For those who cannot handle this, I suggest you move on or wait of the next chapter.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN BEETLEJUICE/BETELGEUSE OR ITS CHARACTERS.**

* * *

After stealing her father's car, she drove and drove until the engine ran out of gas and sputtered to a stand still. From there she went to the nearest ATM at a gas station and withdrew $500; just below the account's maximum withdrawal amount. She then disposed of the card in the bushes, not caring if it was found and used again. A quick bathroom break and a quick stock of gas station junk food, Lydia was off again on foot…until she was snatched up by an unmarked van.

Bound and gagged, her captors ransacked her backpack. They tossed all her belongings on the floor of the van. The only valuable thing they took was her camera…her mother's camera. They had opened up her mother's jewelry box, but all that was in it was a brass mirror necklace. She remembered crying when they tossed it aside, breaking the box in the process.

They then began to search her clothes. Tears streamed as their hands roamed over her body, poking, prodding, and grabbing. They shoved their hands into her pockets and then into pants. One man in particular reached into her panties and forced a finger into her body. She screamed. He laughed.

It wasn't long before they found her stash of money in her bra and for a single moment Lydia thought it was over and they'd let her go.

Oh how wrong she was.

After watching her "husband" being swallowed whole by a sandworm, she swore to never think about him ever again, let alone speak his cursed name…but as they her captors forced her pants down her waist, she spewed forth his name like a cry to God.

 _Once, twice, **thrice...**_

 ** _..._**

 ** _..._**

 ** _..._**

And nothing happened.

 **...**

The van didn't stop when they tossed her out the back door. Her body rolled like a rag doll and stopped face down in the mud. She was vaguely aware when they tossed her backpack at her before flooring the van and leaving her for dead.

Icy rain poured down on the broken teen. The water soothed her bruised and broken body as she lay there in the ditch.

Her mother's mirror necklace had rolled out of her backpack. It was the one thing that they didn't take.

The looking glass reflected Lydia's beaten and bruised face through droplets of rain. She tried to reach for the necklace but her body refused to move under the rain fall.

She was going to die in a muddy ditch. Half naked, broken and battered in a muddy ditch.

In the rain.

Her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

He didn't come. He didn't save her. She called his name, and he didn't answer.

* * *

 ** _Who's this?_**

 ** _Who's this?_**

 ** _I haven't got a clue...she's completely new…_**

 ** _Mind her arm, I think it's turning blue…_**

 ** _What's wrong with you? It's turning black!_**

 ** _We should put this girl back…_**

 ** _She's broken._**

 ** _And bloody._**

 ** _I hope she doesn't die._**

 ** _Let her sleep. Let her rest._**

 ** _Her body will recover with time._**

 ** _New arrival..._**

* * *

If Lydia had the choice to remain in the dark, she'd take it in an instant. To remain oblivious to the outside world. Remain in a state of weightlessness and float amongst flittering dreams.

Dreams of happier times.

The smell of fresh pancakes in the morning.

The sound of percolating coffee.

Her mother's humming as she flipped pancakes on the stove.

Her father's laughing when she missed a pancake.

But slowly...his laugh would grow deeper...his mouth would stretch unnaturally across his face. His eyes, once a warm brown, would turn into a cold harsh jade.

Lydia would try to run. She knew **He** was coming. But her floating feet had no ground to push forward. She flailed her arms and kicked her feet and yet no purchase could be found.

Her mother turned from her cooking and her face, once warm and rosy, turned into a clammy shade of grey. Her blue eyes dimmed and wrinkles formed around them. Her dark hair shriveled up and then fell from her scalp. She held out a clammy hand for her daughter to take.

 _Mommy!_ Lydia would scream. _Mommy!_

Yet before their fingers could touch, the cancer would erupt from her lungs. Black blood poured from her mother's chest; the tumors pulsating from within.

And he would still be laughing. His cackling reverberating within the walls of her mind. Lydia screamed and screamed and yet no sound came forth…

 _ **MOMMY!**_

* * *

It had been days since her husband found the young girl in mud. He saw it, saw how they tossed her out in the rain and sped away. He couldn't run after them if he tried and so he ran to the child they so carelessly used. He called for help, for his frail arms couldn't bear her weight.

So of course the residence came out to his aid. Some curious, some skeptical.

Sally looked down at the young girl in the makeshift cot. She remained vigilant over her, wiping away the cold sweat and changing blankets for new ones. She hadn't left the girl's side for a moment since her arrival. Her heart broke as the girl's face twisted in pain; physical or mental, she was not sure. But when she had undressed the girl from her soaked clothes, the blood between her legs gave Sally the impression that she suffered from both.

Sally took the washcloth from the girl's head and wrung it of the sweat, before dipping it in cool water. She tried to ignore the moans she made as she called for her mother. This girl was likely a run away. It was a repeating occurance that children would run away from their so called "mean and unfair" parents and try to join the circus. They never made it far once they got a look at _this_ particular circus and it's crownies. Once this girl woke up, she would change her mind. One look at Sally would do the trick. Then they will bring her to the local hospital and that would be that.

Or so that's what she kept telling herself.

Dark eyes drifted over to where the girl's belongings were kept. She strained her eyes to see what she wanted to see without turning her head.

Lest it see her spying.

On top the piles of wrinkled clothes and a backpack sat the lone brass mirror. It was a small trinket of a mirror attached to a tarnished chain. She had checked the pendant for any engravings that would give her a clue to the girl's name, but when she touched the mirror's surface...

Sally worried her fingers together, being mindful of the burnt thumb and index finger…

It seemed harmless. It was just a necklace.

She turned her attention back to the young girl in the cot.

This girl was not normal. She was either gifted, cursed, or even worse….

 _Haunted._


End file.
